Battle Scars
by LeeOfHermes0330
Summary: Hugo has been hiding his battle scars. August never noticed them, until now. These are the small glimpses into the most important moments of his life, until she saw them. T for trigger - mentions self-harm, and also there's slight language. Very slight. One Shot. Based loosely on Battle Scars by Paradise Fears. Third in the Songs Snapshots series. Hugo/OC


**So, this is a one-shot, based on the song Battle Scars by Paradise Fears. It's kinda my favorite song right now, and this is kinda one of my favorite ones in this series so far. **

**If you haven't read them, go read Kiss You and She Looks So Perfect, which are the other two in the Song Snapshots series. If you want, I mean. They aren't required to understand this one. I just like them. A lot. X3**

**Warning: Slight language, mentions of self-harm. Not like. Overly graphic or anything, but if you think you'll be triggered, please don't read it, lovely. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own this.**

* * *

He kept getting beaten down by everything. He was so small and insignificant, especially when compared to Rose – and he was always being compared to Rose. He was so broken, so, so battered.

They came for him, you know. Every night, Goyle and his crew of Death Eaters' children and grandchildren would surround him. He wouldn't stand a chance. He was small for his age, weak, powerless against them. He thought no one noticed his plight.

He lived in the shadows after all. He was just weak little Hugo. The youngest to actually bear the Weasley name. Not even Lily cared anymore. He had lost her, his best and only friend, some where in first or second year. She was far too busy with her friends in Gryffindor, and she didn't care about him, the lowly Hufflepuff - he wouldn't even get into what his father said when he found out his son was "one of those chaps dressed like a bloody bee."

But then she saw him. August Longbottom, the Slytherin who was a year older than him and a family friend.

Granted, he learned later, Scorpius noticed too, but wasn't sure how exactly he should say anything.

But August knew how. She stopped them, she healed his bruises so he didn't have to visit the Hospital Wing.

But she didn't see the battle scars.

* * *

"Hey August," he said, sitting next to her as his many cousins played their annual quidditch game on his Aunt Ginny's birthday. She smiled over at him, light blue eyes wide and wondering. There was never any doubt who her mother was – Luna Longbottom (nee. Lovegood).

When Ginny joined the Holyhead Harpies, the Weasley family all pitched in to get a set of metal bleachers and Quidditch goal-posts, which were now situated in the field where they played. Instead of joining in on the games and quite possibly hurting themselves, August and Hugo sat on the sidelines.

"Hey Hughey," she teased. He frowned at his lap, turning red at the hated nickname. She giggled, knocking gently into his sweater-covered arm. He grimaced slightly, pulling his arms closer to his body. She noticed, but said nothing.

"Hey Hugo," she said tugging her feet up to the seat of the bleachers they were sitting on. She wrapped her arms around her legs tightly before continuing. "Remember when your Uncle Harry taught us to fly?" he grinned over at her.

"Your dad was so scared you would fall off," he remembered, "And you just kept telling him it was okay, because we were birds."

She laughed, nodding, and throwing her head back. "I liked playing make-believe back then." She pondered for a moment, staring at the ongoing game, before turning towards him again. "Never thought you'd be the one stuck on the ground, you always liked flying."

He shrugged, thinking of all the reasons he didn't fly, and ran a hand through his dark curls. "I just. Lost the love for it, I guess," he told her, staring at the ground. "Almost dying wasn't really a good thing, after a while." In his head, he thought that maybe, he wouldn't mind dying – he felt dead inside, anyway.

"Hey," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder, "Remember, you're still alive." He smiled half-heartedly, and turned back to the game. She still didn't see his battle scars – and he almost wished she did.

* * *

She slid into his carriage on the Hogwarts Express, laughing at something her friends said. The friends, twin muggleborn Slytherins called Emily and Jesse, waved politely and slid into the seat across from her. Emily whispered a joke into her brother's ear, who in turn shared it with August, and the three of them laughed loudly. Hugo slid further into his spot in the corner, frowning.

"Hiya, Hughey," she said, flashing him a huge smile, "I got my braces off, look!" She sent him a cheesy grin, and he smiled back feebly.

"That…that's great, August," he mumbled. She frowned at him, but only for a moment, before she started talking animatedly to Jesse and Emily again.

Hugo played with the sleeves of his sweatshirt, tugging them over his hands to make "paws" as Rosie had called them. His brown eyes filled with more and more tears as they continued to exclude him, the pain of rejection stabbing through his chest. He couldn't hear what they were talking about, but he was sure it was him. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. He needed a release for the pain, needed a way out.

"'Scuse me," he mumbled, and bolted from the room. August frowned at her friends, and stood, following behind him as he raced down the length of the train, to the bathrooms in the very back.

Just before he could enter, she grabbed his arm, yanking him into an empty compartment. He hissed in pain, and wrapped his arms tightly around his body. Tears were streaming down his face, and he was barely able to see her as she stood in front of him, with a red face and messy, dark hair.

"Leave me alone. Just like everyone else. I'm alone," he sobbed, collapsing on the floor of the compartment. She slammed the door shut, and knelt next to him, dragging him into her arms.

"No," she said. "You're not alone, you know," she whispered, tugging him closer to her and pressing his head into her shoulder as he cried. He let out a body-wracking sob, and she sat back, pulling him practically into her lap, and hugging his face to her body.

"Yes I am," he cried, "I am. And no one ever notices me, and –" he was cut off by her lips pressing onto his.

"No, you're not, I notice you," she said, "I notice you every damn day Hugo Weasley, you mean the world to me. I fight for you because you're worth it." She paused a moment, letting a beat or two pass before adding, "Because I love you."

He smiled up at her, and she leant down, pressing her lips to his once again.

Later, he thought about how close he came to showing her the battle scars that day – close, but not quite close enough. He wished he did, because then she wouldn't claim she loved him. There was no way she could love someone like him.

* * *

"You're a soldier, Hugh," whispered his sister, staring at him with wide brown eyes, the same color as both his and their mother's. He stared back, frozen. He still held the knife, glinting in the soft light; he still sat by the bathtub, with his bleeding right arm exposed and his knees pulled to his chest.

"You're a fighter," her voice rose with each syllable, so soon she was nearly yelling. They were lucky Scorpius didn't hear in the room next door – he was an awfully light sleeper, too. "You're so young and innocent! You don't, you can't…" His sister's voice broke off, and the last word was barley even a whisper, an ever-so silent "why?"

He frowned, staring at the ground. Rose continued to stare at him, her eyes flitting between his arm, and his face, not sure what to do. "I…Did I cause that?" she asked quietly, the thought occurring to her too quickly, too randomly. Too truthfully. His head snapped up, and he locked eyes with her, noting how broken she looked, how terrified that she had done something to drive her little brother over the edge. He shook his head vehemently. She shook her head too, falling to her knees and crawling towards him.

A washcloth lay on the floor beside him, the one he used to clean the marks. "I did." Her eyes looked so haunted, he wanted to look away, but he couldn't. "I caused this, Hugh, it's my fault. If I was a better sister; if I noticed something was wrong earlier, you'd be okay. If…If they didn't compare you to me – but if they knew about it, they wouldn't."

"Knew about what, Rosie?" he asked.

She leaned forwards whispering quietly, "I'm pregnant," she said, "It's Scorp's." Hugo nodded, frowning in vague disappointment in his sister, but he wasn't surprised – she loved Scorpius and he loved her and that was reason enough for Hugo, even if it would definitely not be for their father. He smiled lightly at her, before finally looking away to stare at his wrist.

"Hey Rosie?"

"Hm?" She didn't look up from dabbing away the blood on his arm.

I'm in love with August," he breathed, and she smiled softly, tucking a lock of red hair behind her ear.

"Tell her, Hugh," she said, "Does she love you?"

"Yeah. Yeah, she said so, anyway," he replied. When Rose was finished cleaning his arm, she sat back on her haunches, and wrapped it with a bandage that he had already pulled out.

"You're worth fighting for, Hugh," she told him, giving him a hug – something she hadn't done in a long time, "There's a…a fire in your heart, and you just have to keep it burning bright." She kissed his forehead, and stood up. She removed the knife from her younger brother's hand, and took it with her as she left the bathroom.

"Happy Christmas," she called over her shoulder, before disappearing up the stairs to her room – the one that had been mostly unoccupied until she graduated from Hogwarts the previous year. She had informed them (meaning their parents, him, and Scorpius) at dinner that night that she was searching for a flat in London, closer to the Ministry.

Hugo hoped she didn't find one. Rosie was the first one to see his battle scars, and the only one he thought would fight for him – the only one besides August, anyway.

"Hey, um, August?" he said cautiously, standing behind her with his arms behind his back. She turned around, looking up from where she stared at the Christmas tree in backyard of the Burrow. Her brothers – the older ones, Lorcan and Lysander, as big and intimidating as always, regardless of how kind they actually were – glanced at him in concern.

"Yes Hughey?" she asked, tilting her head in a way that reminded him vaguely of a dark-haired version of her mother. Without saying another word, he stepped forwards and kissed her softly. Her eyes widened.

"Does that mean…" she started, drifting off. He nodded but didn't let her speak again.

"Before you say anything, I need to show you something – you might change your mind," he said. She frowned, confusion flashing across her face, but nodded. He closed his eye tightly, and thrust his arms forward. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and the bandages his sister had put on him the previous night were gone. She could see every single last battle scar.

August said nothing, and Hugo cracked his eyes open, to make sure she was still there. She was, and a confusing array of emotions – confusion, sadness, shock, disappointment, and many others – flickered across her face one after another. Suddenly she looked up at him, locking eyes, and tackled him with a hug.

"We all have battle scars," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his lips. "I love you anyway." He looked at her, shocked, and a bit worried. Did she mean…? She shook her head, laughing lightly and placing another small kiss on his lips.

"No," she told him, "It means that we all have to fight through tough stuff – you aren't weak, love. You're amazingly, wonderfully strong. Now you just have to keep on trying."

"Keep marching on," he said, and she nodded.

"Exactly. Left. Right. Don't stop, march on."

He smiled, and kissed her, a longer, slower kiss that lingered long enough that Freddie walked by and wolf-whistled before they broke apart. "I won't stop," he told her, "Just help me get rid of the battle scars." She agreed with another kiss.

* * *

**If any of you struggle with self-harm of any kind, first off, go listen to this song. Wait. No. Listen to it a_fter _I'm done talking, please. (Gods, I feel like a teacher, wow.) Okay, now seriously. I love you, even if I don't know you - which I probably don't. I know this is cliche, but my inbox is always open if you ever nee someone to talk to - I know what it's like. (I have social anxiety disorder and depression. Like. Clinically diagnosed. And I self-harm(ed) (as of this moment, I am two weeks clean.)) I want to help you guys. Okay? Mmkay.**

**On another note, please review, follow me, fave, whatever. If ya want.**

**RAWR BERRY MUNCH,**

**Hanna XX**


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